The Story Of A Boy Told In Six Birthdays
by Reyuna Yukimura
Summary: AKA the life and times of Remus Lupin before and after he met the marauders, as told through birthdays. Gen fic. MWPP. Mostly schmoop. Oneshot. R and R please!


**Author's Notes:** HELLO PEEPS. Yes, I am back after disappearing for so damned long. Sort of. So. This was actually a freestyle RP application which I then decided to tweak and post here as fanfiction! Er, if it seems really OOC, well, that's why. My bad. Also, it probably seems somewhat more vague about the other characters; this is because, in RP world, being any more specific would have gotten me kicked off the site and accused of godmodding. Actually, I'm surprised that this was ok because I feel as though I was pushing some boundaries. But still, I hope you enjoy it =D Also, **R and R**! Please!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the story.

**Onward to the Warnings!:** My beloved beta, loveismymiddlename, has read this through but not edited; therefore there are bound to be plenty of mistakes. That being said, I'm not an amazing writer; I am merely a passable one who is trying to improve herself. So, please forgive any flow problems, reading problems, etc. that may pop up. Also, I should've rated this K+ at best, however, there is bad language involved. Therefore, in the interest of Not Insulting people, I have rated this story T.

Er, don't flame me please? **I know this is somewhat OOC**. I know that nothing matches anything and that it is **also very slightly AU.** Again, this was an RP application so it is a little tweaked. Ok?

**All that being said, enjoy! And please R and R! I love getting reviews!**

* * *

The Story of a Boy Told in Six Birthdays

* * *

**||~A Scene on the Day of Change~||**

* * *

"Remus~! Come on, baby. Time to wake up."

Remus knows this woman.

A gentle voice full of love, full of the sort of affection that only mothers can muster, breaks into his mind, tugging him up from his comfortable, sleeping state and filling his mind with a steady warmth that Remus knows he will never tire of no matter how old he gets.

He is four now, and the other kids mock him and call him a mummy's boy, but he's ok with that because he knows that he will never tire of having this woman love him, of having her next to him for as long as time will allow, and of loving her fiercely in return.

"Come on, little one! It's already getting late! What're you doing in bed still?"

Another voice floats up, a man's voice this time, young and loud and full of joy. It gives Remus a feeling of security and reminds him of the earth, solid and unshakeable and always _there_. It represents footie, and bath time, and playing in the mud; it brings a smile to his face, and makes his heart light up and yeah, alright, maybe he's a daddy's boy too.

Remus can live with that. No really, he has absolutely no issues with that.

"Wakey wakey, little man. The sun is out and shining, and the birds are about," his mother calls up again, laughter bright in her young voice at her wayward son's refusal to get out of bed.

If he really concentrates, Remus can hear the rumble of his father's baritone laughing about something even as his chair scrapes back as though he were getting up. He knows that if he wakes up and goes downstairs right now, he'd be gathered up in his parents' arms and tickled and loved like he was the center of their universe.

Then again, his mummy _had_ said that he needs to wake up for the sun and the birds and he doesn't really love the sun or the birds, and so he figures that there's no need to actually wake up yet. He's warm and comfortable in his nest of covers and he's pretty sure that if he just keeps his eyes closed, he can go back to the wonderful dream he'd been having about a swimming pool full of pudding and trees made of chocolate.

Or so he hopes.

But, knowing his parents and the things they get up to, Remus really should have known better.

Really.

He's just about dozing off again, eagerly falling back into blissful darkness, when his parents decide that the best way to finally wake him up is to sneak into his room and jump all over him. And it's just so typical that after doing the deed, instead of jumping on him some more and tickling him, they decide to crawl into bed with him… well, all Remus can feel is a sort of heart-felt fondness and only a barely there amount of resentment.

As he makes himself comfortable again and starts to doze off once more, this time in the cocoon of arms and two warm bodies, he can't help smile.

"Happy Birthday, beloved one."

His parents' combined voice blankets him as it does every day, as they say the same words to that they've said on every one of his birthdays so far, "It's another chance for change. The only thing that won't is how much we love you."

As Remus finally nods off, he doesn't realize just what that will come to mean, just how much change is going to happen on this night of the full moon.

He doesn't realize that his life is over on this day, his birthday.

* * *

**||~Of Puppy Dogs and Monsters: An Ode to Childhood~||**

* * *

It's been years now; well, alright, Remus isn't actually sure if four years is long enough for him to refer to it as _years_. But then again, it isn't as though he really cares; semantics (and wouldn't his mummy be proud of his vocabulary?) don't really count for much when you're living the same life every single day, trapped and not knowing how to get out.

He's a big boy now, eight today, actually; he knows things like what is, what has to be, what will be, and mostly importantly, that change always, always _is_.

That last one is probably the most painful of them all; and swallowing it down, back then and even now, had been and is still like swallowing pointy rocks. It makes his throat ache and his stomach feel like it weighs a ton, all crampy and miserable and he's pretty sure that if he actually eats anything with a stomach like that, he'll actually throw up.

So he doesn't; atleast, not as much as he should.

He's read his books on human physiology, sounding words out and making do with pictures when he can't; and he may not understand all of it, but he knows that if he doesn't eat, he will die. He knows that the human condition dictates that he cling to life no matter the cost. And no matter what those Medi-Wizards at 's say, he is a human being. Or at the very least, he's half-human, a "half-blood," as he hears some of them hiss when they think no one hears.

Still though, Remus is convinced that, since he spends 27 out of 28 days as a _boy _and not a _wolf_, the human gene is dominant. The books were very clear about that sort of thing; dominant is dominant and recessive is recessive. Therefore, just because someone has the blond gene in them doesn't mean that they'll turn out blond, especially if there is a gene for darker hair involved.

…just because someone has the monster gene in them doesn't mean that they'll turn out to be one; especially since the human gene is involved.

The primary human trait is that of survival, and Remus knows that that's what he'll do.

Death has never been in the equation for him, anyway, has never been an option.

This is mainly because he knows self-hatred; the books are most forthcoming on that matter and he's forced to look at himself in the mirror every single morning and feel the same bubbling fury and incapability.

And he knows, possibly more than anything else, that he never wants to inflict that feeling on his parents, his poor dad who still blames himself as though he were the one who bit Remus on that night, his poor mum who feels nothing like a mum anymore because she hadn't been able to protect her baby.

Without a doubt, if he died, that would become their fault too, even if Remus is the one who's failed.

So, he lives, knowing that he has to, knowing that there is nothing left but that; he eats the amount it takes to stay that way, even if not healthily, and goes through the motions like he's supposed to. He's filled with apathy, and can't be bothered to smile on more than a handful of occasions, but he's gloriously _alive_ and that's what matters.

He still hates what is, what has to be, what will be, and he still hates change more than anything else.

That's probably the only reason why, even at eight years old, there are some traditions he cherishes, and as his parents creep into his bedroom, he can't help but smile a little.

They don't tickle him, and neither one of them is as exuberant as they used to be even five years ago. Life has been hard; his mom is no longer the vibrant young thing she was and his dad stopped looking like an immovable wall of protection a long while back.

But they're still there, at his side and in his court.

He can't help but cuddle in, like always does and thinks that he always will, when his parents wrap him up; and they may not be all that they used to be but they're still warm and comfortable and so, _so_ full of love for _him_ of all people...he who has caused so much pain for them….

"Happy Birthday, beloved one," they say, and their voice is full of shadows, of what-ifs, but the warmth is still there, just for him, "It's another chance for change. The only thing that won't is how much we love you."

And Remus, well, he soaks it up like he does every year, and allows that to be his strength.

* * *

**||~Of meetings and Learning Things: About Oneself and Others~||**

* * *

For Remus, life has been one change after another, some just mildly nerve-wracking and others that are completely terrifying.

But if there's one thing he's sure of, it's that he's come out of it on top.

He knows who he is, he knows who he's grown into: a stoic young boy with too much brains and little to channel it with but books. By all definitions, he's the 'quirky genius,' as his mother and father put it; he's capable of spitting back book after book, word for word, and he has prodigal problem solving abilities, whether it's in math or science. But socially, he's about as capable as…

Well, he actually isn't very capable at all.

It's not exactly his fault though. Years of being hidden away by his parent's collective fears, of expecting the worst at all ends, haven't exactly been conducive to practicing his social traits.

But still, Remus had always figured that he wouldn't need them. After all, why have social graces when he never planned on being anywhere but home, with his books, and his glasses, and his little window seat? He was never going to go to anywhere, or atleast that's what he'd thought back then, a pang in his heart every time he thought it.

He'd been so, very _wrong_, which considering that he's rarely even mildly incorrect is saying something.

(He's so happy about it that he's even willing to overlook his bruised ego.)

On his eleventh birthday, shortly after his usual and beloved birthday ritual, _it _had happened and it had turned his and his parents' world upside down.

"Happy Birthday, beloved one; It's another chance for change. The only thing that won't is how much we love you," his parents had said, wrapping him up safe like they always did and always will. Remus had once again achieved his quota of something akin to temporary inner peace and strength. And then…

…and then the bloody owl had flown out of the chimney like a bat out of hell and had proceeded to _peck at his arm_ until he'd stopped being all frozen and had accepted it's letter.

Damned thing had been a menace, it really had, but the message it had brought with it…

(Remus still can't get the image of his mother, sobbing her heart out and so, so happy, out of his mind.)

It had been a shock but in the end, and all apprehension aside, he'd ended up on the reddest train he'd ever seen and had been whisked away to what Remus now knows is _literally_ a magical place.

To be honest, it shouldn't have come as that that of a surprise; after all, his folks are magical. His mum is a medi-witch at Mungo's and his dad is an auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. Remus himself turns into a magical creature with every full moon and gets sent to 's at the end of it. All of the injuries get healed within a few days instead of the months that Remus, who has memorized every physio book he owns and can recite body parts and their capabilities like nobody's business, knows it should take. So no, Remus is no stranger to magic; hasn't been since he was two and had blown up that kettle in a snit of anger when his mum had ignored him for making tea.

But…well…

He'd always been rather estranged from the entire thing, accepting it for it is and yet not considering himself a part of it.

Part of the reason is that his parents had never thought their beloved boy would be allowed to go to Hogwarts, had never thought that he'd have the chance to fit in with the magical world, and they'd decided to spare him the heartache of finding out on his own by steering him away from magic and getting him interested in math and science.

The other part of it is that his parents hadn't really wanted him to be around other people; not because they wanted to keep them safe but because they wanted to keep him safe.

("People are liabilities, little one," he could still here his dad tell his terrified, four-year-old self, "They're not to be trusted. Alright? They're to be stayed away from.")

Either which way, Remus had been well and truly estranged away from wizardry for a good long while, and he hadn't even set foot out of his own backyard much less in _Diagon Alley_.

Suffice it to say, when he'd finally gotten onto the train, he'd been utterly terrified.

His parents had given him warning after warning before finally letting him go, looking torn between wrapping him up and allowing him to grow.

("Keep people at a distance, darling," they'd said, so much sadness in their voice, "Be polite, but don't get too close. And above all else, never, ever tell anyone your secret, alright? Remember, people cannot be trusted.")

"Don't trust anyone, don't go near anyone," he'd kept repeating to himself over and over again, his heart longing for something that his logic wouldn't let him have. He's not stupid now, but well, he'd thought he wasn't stupid back then either, only partly so; he'd known what he wanted, but he hadn't allowed himself to have it. He'd had to survive and as far as he'd been concerned, making friendships, as wonderful as the books make them seem, was a sure fire way to die. So, he'd picked an emptiest, dingiest trolley and had settled down, eyes closing up and closing out the real world.

He'd expected solitude and peace; what he'd gotten instead was a lap full of black haired, hazel eyed _mischief_, which had quickly been followed by a painful if accidental shoulder check from black haired, gray eyed _menace_ as he'd attempted to launch himself at mischief.

And the rest, as they say, had been history.

The mischief and the menace, later named to be named James Potter and Sirius Black had, had _imprinted_ on him or something, and had proceeded to make his life the agreeable sort of living hell that could only come with marriage or roommates.

Remus hadn't even stood a chance. Then Peter had joined in, and he hadn't stood a chance either; so it was all good.

Mind you, he'd tried so, _so_ hard to just get away, to run like every instinct that had ever been drilled into him dictated. But the reality of it is that it hadn't even taken the terrible duo two months to make him fall in love with them, just a little. They had been (and still are) like anxious puppies, begging to be taken home, or is it that _they_ took _him_ home? Even today, almost two years after meeting them, he isn't sure.

Here's the thing though, they may not know everything there is to know about him, James and Sirius and Peter; chances are, they will never know everything there is to know about him.

But they know enough.

They know about his border-line unhealthy obsession with chocolate; they know what makes him smile; they know what to get him for Christmas because god knows he refuses to tell them when his birthday is and that makes James and Sirius pout like a set of three years who've been denied their right to more playground time. (It's not really something he's hiding to keep it from them. But he's not really used to there being pomp about his birthday anymore and besides, that first year, without his parents, he'd almost fallen apart. He hadn't had someone to draw strength from, or so he'd thought, and his birthday had become sort of _dull_.)

They know that he's smart as hell, a veritable genius, and they also know that when it comes to social interaction, he's worse off than a stunted two year old.

They know that his favorite color is blue, and that he likes the smell of the autumn air. They know that he gets cranky every once in a while and requires snuggles as much as he needs everyone to not know about it. They also know that he isn't _really_ pissed off that they go around telling everyone about the damned snuggles.

They know he has Secrets, with a capital S, know the shadow in his eyes almost as well as he does; and even as they pry and pry, they try their best to make things better for him, bless their black little souls. They make obvious that they just _care_. Remus knows that he's getting a bit redundant, but again, _puppies_.

Best of all, they know that he is _damaged_, and they accept all of it, questions answered and not; they just accept _him_.

For Remus, that's enough; that's _everything_.

They probably know more about him than everyone but his parents and he can safely say that he knows just as much about them and that's just….good. It's…_good_.

So really, and having been through all that, it shouldn't surprise him one bit that when he's already –stubbornly—resigned himself to another empty birthday with no one to draw on, they decide to turn his world upside down.

That night, as he lies in bed for the countdown to being 13, he feels arms of a different sort, less parental and he figures possibly more sibling-like, wrap around him. And they say the words that his parents always say, had probably read it over his shoulder at the dining hall when he'd been reading his parents' letter to him.

But it still feels so, _so_ good to hear, ""Happy Birthday, beloved one. It's another chance for change. The only thing that won't is how much we love you."

The voices are different, slightly squeaky in a pre-pubescent sort of way instead of rich and steady as his parents' had been, and he has no idea how they know about this little tradition between he and his parents. But the feeling of security and strength and the heady undercurrent of _family_ is the same as it ever was.

He can't even work up the slightest amount of irritation at what should be a serious breach into life.

But he figures, eh, what the hell. It isn't as though they don't do that regularly, anyway. This time is really no more special than every other time, when all he's been able to manage is an exasperated fondness that weighs him down and makes him float at the same time.

Tomorrow, he'll be back to reaming them out and nagging them to do their damned homework and to please stop pranking the poor firsties pleasekthanx. But today, he'll take what he can get and wallow in all the affection and fondness that the other two are practically radiating at him.

* * *

**||~Of Shenanigans: Escapades and Life~||**

* * *

Remus can still remember when his best friends had broken it to him that they'd figured out his biggest, darkest secret. Hell seeing as it had shaved off about ten years off his life expectancy and sent him into the worst panic attack to date; well, he can't _not_ remember it.

It had happened the after a full moon, when Remus had been too tired and too hurt to do much of anything but let Nurse Pomfrey attempt to coddle him to death. All three of his alleged best friends had marched into room, taken one look at the state of his body, and had somehow decided that _that_ was the best time to spill the beans. You know, as opposed to maybe when Remus was healthier and more physically and mentally capable of handling this crap.

There hadn't even been any fanfare.

James, the little shit, had just at in a corner of his bed, looked him in the eye and seriously but with the ever present mischievous undercurrent had said, "So, you're a werewolf, huh?"

Sirius, the absolute fucker, hadn't even allowed James to finish his sentence before jumping on his bed with an overenthusiastic, "That's bloody brilliant!"

Peter, bless him, had been the only sane one in the room, just silently offering support by patting Remus on the shoulder and just smiling.

(Oh wait, did he say sane? He means, batshite with little to no self-preservation, and he aims that unkind thought at all three of them even though it's sort of a surprise to have to add Peter into that; because Sirius and James are foregone conclusions when it comes to that sort of thing but Peter is not.)

Anyway, in the meantime, Remus had been having a heart-attack at the ripe old age of 13 and possibly considering the idea of ritual suicide to get out of this situation.

That may or may not have had to do with the fact that, despite being them and therefore looking like the cat that ate the canary at all times, despite being almost obnoxiously resilient in the face of, of _everything_, James and Sirius and Peter had seemed….hurt.

It had taken a few minutes of contemplation but when he'd opened his mouth, he'd attempted to salvage the situation and had said, "What are you talking about?" It had turned out to be a big mistake.

Remus swears to this day that the room plummeted to freezing temperatures at his obvious lie. Hell, even Peter had looked utterly Unimpressed, which considering that he's a boy who had looked like a younger and more human version of the Fat Friar at the time, is saying something.

Surprisingly, it had been Sirius who broke the frigid silence, sounding haughty and hurt and every bit the broken pure-blood prince he'd been at the time, "What, you think we're stupid?"

And before Remus could reply, James had broken in, sounding every bit the haughty only child that he tries so hard to keep away from, "Did you think we wouldn't be able to figure it out?"

But it'd been Peter's question that had broken Remus a little on the inside, had made him feel atrocious even though he'd technically been the victim in the situation. He hadn't affect any voices, hadn't used any mean of eliciting any answer other than the honest one; he'd simply asked, "Don't you trust us?"

Remus had immediately and instinctively sat up in a panic, trying to say –no, no don't leave, I trust you more than I trust anyone else, please— but only succeeding in making his body hate him and cause him to have to choke off a scream of pure agony. He's no pansy, ok, and he hadn't been one back then either.

But basically, after that, Nurse Pomfrey had come back like a giant hen hell bent on nursing everyone to death, and Remus had barely had the time to get out an apology before James, Sirius and Peter were being forcibly evicted.

On the upside, they seemed to get it, get that it wasn't them and that it was Remus and that it always had been because he'd always been a paranoid fucker who doesn't deserve half the things he has even if he is selfish enough to want to keep them; on the downside, if their grins are anything to go by, there were going to be _explanations_ later.

Remus had already been a small bit terrified, actually, and those grins? Well, they just made things worse.

And then, to add insult to injury, the idiots had stopped just before fully stepping out, each with a wild grin on their faces. It'd been James who'd said it though, speaking through a Cheshire grin, "Oh and guess what else?"

Then Sirius had stepped up, "We know when your birthday is!"

Peter hadn't stepped up, but he had grinned, "Happy March 10th, mate!"

And then, all three of them had just waltzed out, cackling like hyenas, as though they hadn't just upended Remus' world all over again.

Did Remus mention that he'd thought of them as absolute fuckers at the time?

As expected, The Conversation had taken place about three days later and it had been every bit the painful experience that Remus had expected it to be. James and Sirius had sort of spend the entire time sort of cooing at him, as though they didn't have problems of their own in life, and had basically spent the next day acting like his nanny and trying make him experience childhood things that they'd just assumed he hadn't had even though he hadn't said a thing and had generally made his life miserable in all the right ways.

Again, marriage or roommates.

Then things had just snapped back into regular time, as though they'd never had secrets; and if the other three kept a closer eye on him in the three or so days before a full moon and were nicer to him than usual the three days after, well, Remus wasn't going to complain.

That, Remus had thought, had been that.

But then again, when have James and Sirius and Peter ever done anything that would make his life easy?

His lycanthropy does get brought up— in fact it had happened a mere half hour ago— and all things considered, Remus doesn't know whether he should be scared or not when he reads the message on the parchment saying, "Oy! Mate! Meet us in the dorm in about three hours! We have something that could help with your wolf situation! Ta! "

He can't even be all pissed off that the sods had _actually written that down_ because they've done it the way the marauders always have then they want to keep secrets, written in a special ink and blood mixture that only one of the marauders can read and Remus can't bloody well complain because _he's_ the one that came up with the system and he _knows_ that it works.

He'd blow up at them anyway, except, that hardly seems fair when it's not them that's the problem; when it's actually _Remus_ who's the problem.

He's been paranoid and tetchy for a few months now. He doesn't know what it is that the other three are up to; they've been ridiculously secretive and refuse to answer any of his questions, and Remus doesn't really know why, but it feels almost as though they're _avoiding_ him or worse, disincluding him altogether. To be honest, it fucking hurts and at this point, after months of "Maybe later, Moons," "Not right now, Remus," and "there's no time for that right now, Remus," he's almost expecting to hear news of abandonment when he finally manages to meet with them.

Kind of like, "Ello chap, how are you? So, you know what? Let's just keep this simple, eh? We don't want you to be a marauder anymore. So yeah. See you around. Ta!"

It most certainly doesn't help that a small, deeply hidden part of Remus has been expecting this since first year, within a week of James and Sirius falling into him and forcibly dragging him into friendship. After all, they're _them_ and he's just _him_, and a part of Remus has been expecting to be chucked off because he's not as good as they are; they don't deserve to have him dragging them down.

He's seen this coming, he has, but he still ends up feeling like the world is being ripped out from under him and like his heart is shattering into tiny little, irreparable pieces.

Remus doesn't actually manage to make it to the time when he's supposed to meet up with the other three. He finally breaks, and ends up running up to the dorm just about 10 minutes before the meeting; and when he gets there and sees that no one's around, he starts to pack.

He's sort of freaking out, and more than a little upset, and he's just half-hazardly throwing shite into his beaten up old trunk which, fuck, should've been his first clue that he wasn't good enough. What in the actual hell had he even been thinking, anyway? James and Sirius and even Peter are all leaps and bounds higher up in the ladder than he is; James and Sirius have personality and looks and _everything_ and Peter, no matter what anyone says, is _that guy_, the one you can go to for everything from advice to just a friendly face. Remus does not belong because he's _not_ that guy; he's still a bit socially awkward even he's been around other people for _years_ now, has secrets that no one should ever be forced to keep, is difficult and either too childish or too grown up and god…what in the hell had he been thinking, anyway?

By the time he's finished packing, he's got plans to just leave, to run away and never come back and to never have to be told that he'd lost his best friends even though they really do deserve to be free of him. He's just selfish like that, and really, this is a win-win for all; he doesn't have to hear it and they won't have to deal with him anymore. Shite, its fucking _ideal_.

(Remus steadily ignores that part of his brain which is throwing a fucking _tantrum_ at this point because it doesn't want to leave this place, doesn't want to leave _them_ because he doesn't know what he's worth _without_ them and it doesn't even matter because he's pretty sure he'll be dead from heart-break before the week is out, anyway.)

But of course, life is never that easy when one's name is Remus John Lupin.

Just as he's about to fucking _leave_, just as he's opening the fucking door, he runs into the three people whom he wants least to see. Well, actually, he runs nose first into Sirius' chest and proceeds to have the customary ten second mental rant about how it's not fucking fair that the other boys (except Peter) are all taller than him _by a lot_ and that mixed with panic and heart-break and the weight of his fucking chest are making him a little crazy.

That's probably why James and Sirius are looking at him all wary, and Peter is hiding behind them, as though they're waiting for him to snap and rip their spines out in a fit of rage. It's the same look they usually give him when it's exam time and he's going bonkers; and no, it probably shouldn't be so heart-breaking that Remus is going to _miss that_.

To makes things worse, something must've shown on his face because suddenly they're all on high alert instead.

Three sets of eyes, all different hues, abruptly start to take in everything from Remus' cleanly made bed, to his empty chest, until they finally land on the fully packed trunk that Remus is irrationally trying to hide behind him because he may be a genius in some circles, but he's an idiot when it comes to this kind of thing.

So it's almost expected when James suddenly steps up, arms crossed over his quidditch broadened chest and says with a scowl planted firmly on his face, "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

He looks Displeased, with a capital D; and when James gets into one of those moods, _heads roll_, and Remus isn't exactly sure _why_ this is happening because this should the ideal solution to all their problems. In the end, he just tries to push his way through, but then Sirius has a mulish look on his face as he determinedly blocks Remus' path with a scowl to match James' on his face and Remus _just can't get through_.

Then Peter walks over his section of the dorm, looks around, and pipes up with a slightly confused and mostly panicked, "Everything's gone, you guys…"

…and all hell breaks loose.

The next few minutes are a flurry of furious yelling, screaming, tackling (the quidditch playing _Neanderthals_), and Remus spilling every deep-seated insecurity he's ever harbored, _ever_. They're full of James squeezing the air as though he's imagining that it's Remus' neck, Sirius _actually_ making the attempt, and Peter fucking _sitting on him_ with a fury on his face that rarely ever surfaces.

By all logic, it should end in Remus finally yelling himself hoarse, miraculously managing to push his way out through three very large boys, and finally getting free. In fact, that's how it almost ends.

…except for the part where there is now an angry fucking _stag_ engaging him a bloody _tug-of-war_ for his own damned trunk, a fucking _huge ass_ dog _ruining his trousers_ by biting down and yanking like it's life depends on it, and a fucking rat _nipping at his fingers_, as though trying to aid the stag by making Remus lose his grip.

Remus can't even manage an indignant, "What in the _actual hell_" because he's being too speechless over the fact that his fucking FRIENDS (and they always will be, ok, even if they don't feel the same way) have suddenly been replaced by...by...

This is the part where he starts pinching himself, _viciously_, because there is no way this is happening.

He doesn't stop until one of the others, Sirius he thinks, changes back and gently extracts his fingernails from his now slightly bloody arms; and even then, his mind is utterly blanked out, so he barely even notices.

There may be a moment or two there where he may have done something utterly embarrassing like breaking down (_completely_) and crying all over James' naked chest, and all he can think is that it's no fucking wonder that everyone and their grandmother thinks they're shagging.

It's really no wonder that it takes another two hours before things are finally settled enough for explanations.

Remus doesn't really want to go into it, but there may have been more yelling, a lot of him feeling utterly confused, a little bit of the others whapping across the head as though he has brain cells left to lose, and in the very end, a whole hell of a lot of secret snuggling which no one will ever know that he likes to indulge in.

And at some point between all that, there are even explanations made.

In the end though, all that doesn't even matter because without Remus even realizing, his trunk has been unpacked and strewn strategically such a few of his things that he would never leave without _mysteriously vanish_ and will never be _found_ without having to ask one of the other three.

It shouldn't warm his heart as much as it does that they're willing to go to such lengths to keep him around.

That night, when all is settled and it's time to sleep, he doesn't even need his usual birthday tradition, doesn't need to draw in peace and strength to last him the year. He doesn't need them because now he knows; there are people who will offer it to him as long as they'll have him, people who will go ahead and do something utterly dangerous like turning themselves into animagi _without supervision_ just so one of their friends can have a slightly easier time.

(Remus can't help but beam; god knows why, but they're his _friends_. He can almost _feel_ Sirius whapping him over the head with a glare and calling him stupid, all before rolling back over and going to sleep as though it were a regular occurrence.)

He'll definitely give them hell for it later; try to make them understand that personal risks like that are never good. He won't tell them that they shouldn't have done it for _him _because even though it's logical, it will make their faces pinch up and will make them close off in a truly spectacular way that involves loud explosions and pranks of heretofore never seen magnitude. Instead, he'll atleast try to foster some level self-preservation in the gits' collective brains, and atleast _try_ to thank them for it even though Remus knows that nothing will ever be enough.

But for now, he's glad to just spend the first few hours of his fifteenth year in the world wallowing in the sheer affection that these boys seem to have for _him_ of all people.

Just as he nods off, comfortable in the animal pile of stag and dog and rat that he's somehow become cocooned in, it really hits him.

He doesn't need to hear, "Happy Birthday, beloved one. It's another chance for change. The only thing that won't is how much we love you."

He knows it's true anyway even if he doesn't really understand _why_.

But it still feels so fucking good when James and Sirius go out of their way to change back, get dressed, and say it to him anyway— just because they think he needs to hear it— before shedding their clothes again and nimbly getting back to their original positions. And right there, in his too cramped single bed which Remus estimates would be _buckling_ if it weren't for magic, Remus makes himself a promise, makes _them_ a silent promise.

He will never allow these people to come to harm, not while he's able to fight back somehow; he will never allow their inner light to dim, not even the littlest bit.

He would rather die in the worst way.

When he finally falls asleep, it's to images of James with gray hair and Peter with a bald spot and Sirius with crow's feet and Remus is there. He's there to take in the laugh lines and the happily lived lives and he hopes, prays for the first time in his entire life, that their lives come to pass exactly like that. And even if he doesn't get to share in it, Remus thinks he can survive as long as he knows that these precious, wonderful people are as happy as they can possibly be, happier even than they've made him today.

Still though, he's going to chew them out tomorrow for possibly almost getting themselves killed by doing this. They'll have to give him metric-tons of chocolate and fill the lake itself with coffee before he'll finally get off their backs about it. Hell, he might still not back off then; he might harp on about it for the rest of their lives.

It's something Remus seriously looks forward to.

* * *

**||~Endings and New Beginnings: Of How Things Are~||**

* * *

It's been seventeen years now, atleast four of which were spend living and more importantly, _loving_; and Remus can't help but be a little frustrated with himself because he should've moved past all this instead of remaining the broken little boy he's pretty sure he'll always be at this point.

It's March the 10th, and Remus should be happy because, if nothing else, his birthdays are wonderful days. Except, this time, there's a small, dark voice in the back of his head screaming that this is the last one he'll celebrate.

He knows why that is.

It's his last year at Hogwarts; they're officially only about two and a half months from graduating. For Remus, this means he only has two and a half months of being a free man, two and a half months of enjoying a deep and wonderful friendship in which he's unfortunately invested his very _soul_.

He says unfortunately because, well, it's going to be so, so hard to do what he plans to do when he actually has people to leave behind.

But in the end, once he graduates Hogwarts, he's going to have to register with the ministry as a werewolf, is going to have to find a way to live a life where people look at him like the monster that he is and treat him like he's volatile just because of something which is absolutely not his fault. And he's going to deal with that, he is; just not with the support that he's so used to, that he'd come to depend on despite himself.

(An even smaller part of him desperately wishes that he had fucking listened to his parents all those years ago, when they'd told him not to do this to himself. But the much, much bigger part of him stands that he'd rather have had this even if it was only for a little while rather than not having it at all.)

It all comes down to the fact that he refuses to drag his beloved friends down with him. James and Sirius and even Peter (who's actually been acting a bit odd) deserve more than that, deserve everything but nothing of Remus' problems because shite, they've been dealing with that crap too long, already.

He tries to put on a brilliant smile, one that has to pass muster, and finds that he can't; he finds himself curling up on his bed and trying not to be a miserable sod, instead.

He's tried to bring this up in conversation before, mainly because when the inevitable happens, he doesn't want anyone coming after him for not giving a warning. But James and Sirius, the bullheaded wankers, always seem to blithely come up with a different topic to discuss every. single. time. because they're infuriating bastards who refuse to think ahead. He hasn't even tried to talk to Peter because Peter hasn't really been talking to him and Remus' bullshit detector has been going off around him lately and he can't figure out why. So usually, he just puts it out of his mind and walks away from it, putting it away so he can bring it out and inspect it at a later time.

Besides, they've put up with a lot of crap from him, over the years. They've had to deal with his neuroses and his paranoia and his tendency for self-hatred and his chocolate stealing ways and his coffee stealing ways and his nagging and his wolf issues and god, _everything_. The least he can do it is to not discuss a topic which obviously makes them uncomfortable; so he puts it all away for when he scrutinize them in privacy. His brain is usually pretty compliant with the idea, anyway.

But of course, it's now his birthday and his aforementioned brain, dammit to the fiery pits of boiling hellfire anyway, is bent on overthinking and making him miserable in a way even James and Sirius never even achieved with Filch, try as they might.

And speaking of James and Sirius, just as Remus is about to give up and curl up for some good old-fashioned wallowing, they waltz right in, looking all bright and happy to be alive; and even though no amount of trying to hide will save him, Remus tries anyway. He really doesn't want to take their good moods away from them because damn, if there are people who truly deserve happiness, it's them.

Still though, it's too much to ask and Remus isn't really holding his breath about remaining undiscovered.

Lo and Behold, it's Sirius who notices him first, his smile disappearing to be replaced by a pondering look; it's like he sees everything in the few seconds that his eyes are on Remus, sharp and insightful in was that Remus' own mother hasn't managed in years. Remus manages to feel a sense of almost awe for all of ten seconds before Sirius is turning to James and is saying, casual as ever, "Oy. Prongs. Looks like Moony here needs to be stopped, again." He's tall, and grown and so, so mature and completely not all at the same time. He's the moon and he's brilliant and the world is better simply for having him in it because he lights the way even on the darkest nights.

By this point, James, who's also noticed something off, simply smirks and replies, "Why yes, Padfoot, I do believe you're correct," all tart and condescending in the way that he's tried so hard to grow out of and only lets it out once in a while in play. He's the sun, radiant and ethereal and yet something to be reached for, something to be cherished until death because he is warmth and light and happiness.

They've both grown magnificently; they've turned into people that will one day change the world in drastic ways and will banter and snark and be pains in everyone's collective arses while they do it.

Speaking of pains in the arse, Remus barely has the time to fondly compare how both of them have actual _deep voices_ now, as opposed to the squeaks of previous years, before he's being mercilessly tackled and tickled.

Did Remus mention that he thinks that these guys are bastards? No really, they are; and damn if he won't miss them for every second that they aren't around.

However, at the end of day and after nearly breaking both their arms in an attempt to _make them stop_, he can't help but feel fond and warm as they settle in around him, wrapping him up and bringing with the action a serious sense of déjà vu.

Sirius just grins, obnoxious as ever, "I can smell the smoke from here, Rem," he says, sounding so, so fond that Remus' heart aches with it. And James, bless him, kicks Sirius lightly and, ignoring the yelp and the subsequent puppy eyes that follow, just smiles at Remus.

And Remus, well, he just sort of settles in and allows himself this little bit.

Even as the other two quietly utter the same words that they've adopted for their own for _years_ now, wrapping him up without any shame as to what they're doing even though they're all seventeen year old boys cuddling on the same bed— "Happy Birthday, beloved one. It's another chance for change. The only thing that won't is how much we love you"—he settles and just…let's go.

They've been through a lot, him and these guys; they've been through hell, and betrayal and joy and sorrow and fuck, Remus can't even imagine a world without them even when he knows that he's going to have to suck it up and deal with it in a few months' time. But he'll manage. He's going to do it for them, for James' smile, and Sirius grin, and crow's feet, and bald spots, and laugh lines so deep that the very thought makes Remus _ache_. They will live the best life they can have and Remus will not sully that even if he ends up having to kill himself to make sure it happens.

But those are thoughts to have for later, for when it's dark and he's alone in bed, and has the room to release a few tears in the privacy of closed curtains.

For now though, this is enough.

Taking a deep breath and soaking up the affection that these two wonderful people have been offering him since literally falling into him, Remus fortifies himself.

When he's finally composed himself enough, he looks up at them, and he does what he always does around them, almost helplessly.

He smiles.

* * *

**FINIS**

* * *

**End Author Notes**: This...was my first HP fic? where have I been? GEEZ! anyway, hope you liked! please R and R! Also, I am now taking requests. I have realized that the only way to keep up with writing is if I feel compelled to do so. So. Any suggestions?


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